If he is innocent until proven guilty, am I a victim?

Kathryn Caraway writes that he U.S. Constitution protects the rights of the accused, but when is a victim recognized by the judicial system as such? Although every state has adopted a Victim's Bill of Rights, its application is at the discretion of thousands of individual jurisdictions across the United States.

A person charged with a crime is presumed to be innocent until the government can prove guilt to a jury of his/her peers. This is the presumption of innocence doctrine, which guarantees a fair trial for the accused in accordance with the Fifth, Sixth and 14th Amendments to the U.S. Constitution.

People impacted by the crime are essential to successfully prosecuting criminal cases, especially in establishing a crime was committed beyond a reasonable doubt. Many of these charges, such as in domestic violence cases, are dismissed when the witness central to the crime backs away from pursuing legal action often out of fear of retaliation.

If a person accused of a crime is innocent until proven guilty, is there a victim? I don’t really know the answer to that question, but I can tell you about my experience.

A man I had casually dated relentlessly stalked me, mounted a public humiliation campaign against me and even stole from me. I sought a protective order, but that didn’t make him stop. In seven months, he was arrested three times.

I was committed to cooperating in my three criminal cases, but the judicial system often made it more difficult than I felt was necessary. For example, a steady stream of notices arrived in the mail about various court dates. There were notices for hearings, pre-trial conferences, and trial dates with no explanation. I’d call the district attorney’s office but often was met with excuses that clearly relegated my case to the bottom of the pile — a folder congesting their government-issued desk.

In the absence of communication, I’d put in a request to take time off work to attend court proceedings. I didn’t want to run the risk that a plea agreement would be reached without my input.

The man who had been arrested was claiming that I was actually the stalker, but because the system showed deference to females he had been wrongly charged. It was infuriating—to say the least — after the amount of effort I expended to provide evidence of his stalking behavior including irrefutable photos and videos from a private investigator.

When I arrived at the courthouse for a court date, I always checked in with the district attorney's office. On one such occasion, I was waiting in the courtroom for the docket to be called when someone from the staff appeared. He requested that I step into the hallway to talk. Eager to find out more about my case, I did.

Instead of hearing progress, I was told my continual presence at court dates was unnecessary. In fact, it hurt my case. By showing up in court, it lends credibility to his claim that I was stalking him. I was accused of being at the hearings to see him, possibly even to coerce him into a relationship with me. I stayed as calm as I could, firmly explaining the state’s Victim Bill of Rights allowed me to be at each court proceeding.

I wasn’t a victim, he explained.

Since the perpetrator is “innocent until proven guilty” there is no formal acknowledgment that a crime has even been committed—only that the evidence suggests one has. As such, there is no victim, only an alleged victim, and the Victim’s Bill of Rights does not apply.

Go home, I was told. If my presence was needed by the prosecution, I’d be notified in advance. Disregard the notices of court proceedings—that’s just a formality, he said.

Shock. Rage. Disappointment. A mixture of emotions overwhelmed me. It threatened to consume me, but I couldn’t allow it. I needed to remain composed. I explained that the lack of communication about my case compelled me to be in attendance to avoid my case being settled or dismissed without my input. The staff member acknowledged his office would communicate more and assured me that they do not accept plea agreements without consulting with those affected.

“After all,” he said, “the district attorney is elected to represent the people and if he fails, he could lose his public office.”

Fast forward two years later, with two successful convictions for the perpetrator in my case, I received a phone call. A plea agreement had been reached in the third case, but for a misdemeanor instead of a felony. I argued that the stalker shouldn’t be allowed to plead to a lesser charge. He should be held accountable for the classification of law that he broke. The district attorney’s office disagreed. A tax renewal to fund their office had been denied by voters at the polls. Budget cuts meant they had to select cases to take to trial and mine didn’t make the cut.

As I continued to express opposition, the exasperated prosecutor finally told me that it was a done deal. The paperwork was already signed and sent to the judge. So much for the assurance that plea agreements are not accepted without consulting those affected.

The jail had also lost funding on the failed tax initiative, so the sentence he received as part of the plea deal really made it no sentence at all. Not only was he allowed credit for time served on his other two convictions, but because the third sentence ran concurrently there was no additional time in jail. I’d later learn the plea agreement also allowed him to expunge this conviction from his record.

What was defined by law as a felony offense eroded to a stain on his record destined to be wiped clean as though it never happened.

This is what happens when victims are told to go home and disregard what is happening with legal proceedings surrounding some of the most traumatic moments in their lives. No wonder some of those victims don't come forward to cooperate with prosecutors. It's not always because of fear of retaliation or confronting their offenders. Maybe there is another reason: a callous disregard from the system for how victims are treated.

While the United States Constitution affords rights to the accused, it is silent on the rights of victims. Every state, including the District of Columbia, has adopted a Victim’s Bill of Rights. While each state is different, most include elements such as the right to attend proceedings and the right to confer with the prosecutor before a disposition is final.

The application of the Victim’s Bill of Rights is subject to interpretation by the jurisdiction. Some states only consider a person affected by crime a victim if it is a violent offense. Other states provide victim rights only to those impacted by felony offenses.

If I am not a victim and these rights do not apply to me, what am I?